


Helpless

by KLStarre



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Compliant, Gen, Shardling Secret Santa, Suicide mention, Way of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shallan could have died, and it is Jasnah's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lscholar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lscholar/gifts).



            Shallan is already passed out when Jasnah forces her way into the room, her arm slashed open and blood staining the wooden floor. For a moment, Jasnah says nothing, thinks nothing, _is_ nothing. She is not in love with Shallan Davar, and seeing her prostrate upon the floor, eyelids fluttering and bordering death, does not make her suddenly realize that she is, despite standard narrative conventions.

            But she _does_ care for her, deeply, even if she is bad at showing it. “Guards!” Jasnah calls, but her voice comes out shaky and quiet, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear. Again. “Guards!”

            Footsteps. Moving slowly, far too slowly, as the blood pumps from Shallan’s veins. The pool she lies in is big enough that she should have been dead long ago, but she is breathing still, her chest moving slowly, far too slowly.

            Jasnah yells again. She hasn’t moved from her standing position by the door out of fear, as if time will stop if she stops.

            A fist gloved in metal knocks on the wooden door and she takes a deep breath before turning and opening it. She can feel the redness around her eyes, and isn’t sure whether the moisture on her cheeks is tears or sweat.

            The guard sees Shallan on the floor and doesn’t even wait to hear Jasnah speak, pushing past her and lifting Shallan easily. “Get her to Taravangian,” Jasnah says, voice quiet but now composed, her mask formed one again. “Get her to the hospital.”

            The guard bows to Jasnah and walks away, leaving Jasnah alone to her thoughts.

∞

            It has been two days, and Jasnah still has not been allowed in to see her ward. She sits in the hallway outside Shallan’s private room, books piled up beside her, trying desperately to distract herself. The doctors have told her that she is alive, that she will pull through, but they have also told her other things.

            Things like how deep the cut in Shallan’s arm was, how there was a clean, perfect slice through a major artery.

            How suicide is a common response to stress when the subject is already unstable.

            How maybe Jasnah should consider not working her wards as hard.

            And the look of blame in their eyes as she sits and rereads the same passage over and over, trying to absorb the information she needs to save the world. A year ago, she would have been able to do this. A year ago, the information that Shallan was alive would have been enough to assuage her worries, enough to allow her to focus on what was truly important (but she didn’t know Shallan a year ago, did she? And isn’t that what it all comes down to?).

            But now. Now, it could be her fault. Now, she might have been responsible for the almost-death of one of the finest scholars of the past fifty years, but that isn’t even what truly bothers her.

            Shallan had trusted her, respected her, and now she has betrayed that trust (there isn’t a doubt in her mind that it was a suicide attempt. She should check the facts, process the information, but she doesn’t. The Veristitalians would be ashamed.)

            Within the cloth that covers her safehand, her fingers feel the intricate designs on her Soulcaster, and she sighs aloud. Jasnah Kholin is helpless, for the first time she can remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shardling Secret Santa 2015/16, and it's short and not very good, but I hope you like it!


End file.
